One Hundred Strong
Many long years ago, a group of one-hundred set out by foot on a journey of 4,000 miles. Of various races, the group was made up of men, women, and children. They wisely saw their group as colourless and faceless; no one held status above another–in fact, they knew not what such could have meant. All held a unique role within their group. Some were gatherers; some were hunters; some were fire makers; and some were makers of clothes. All were equally respected as aspects of The One.
The dangerous journey involved the crossing of mountains, great rivers, and a desert. No one was guaranteed safe passage. Each member worked toward the achievement of their common goal. When members stumbled or fell back, the group slowed and made allowance until they could all move forward together. If a member became too weak to walk, a litter was made and the member was carried by those who were stronger. When they made camp for the night, no one proudly decreed “i have made it.” They functioned as “we,” not “me.” At the end of the day, they gathered round the fire and gave thanks to The One that they had made it to a resting place.
The members of the group were known by names, but they recognized identity at a deeper level than is common now. The eldest was Ecob; his face was deeply wrinkled from long years under the sun; his form, once tall, was now stooped. He was the carrier of wisdom. Never would he, or any other member of the tribe, confuse his or her name with identity; for all the members knew that in reality they were One masquerading as many. They realized that a name was merely a way of pointing–not to be confused with whom we actually are. To think of themselves “as” a name or status would have been ridiculous.
It would make a nice fairy tale to state that all of the members made it safely to their destination; but such is not the case. Along the challenging journey, some fell to their bodily death when crossing mountain ranges; several fell ill with fever, lost appetite, and died; a few perished under the blazing heat of the desert sun; and two slept away of old age and frailty. When the remaining members arrived at the shore of their destination, they numbered seventy-six. Although diminished in numbers, they were still strong–united as ever in the goodness of their common goal. The first night in the new world, all bowed and gave thanks to The One for safe passage; and they paid tribute to the contributions made by those who now lived on in the un-manifest.
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How different that group is, my friends, when compared to the collection of little “i’s” running themselves ragged upon the face of our Earth. This is the period of our return to Truth; for despite appearances to the contrary, we are Oneness expressing Itself as an apparent multiplicity and diversity of forms. Together “we” will make it; divided into the conceptual little “i’s” of name and form, we are sure to perish. Through our openness to serving the common good, we will prevail. Namaste: I honor the Greatness That is You.
Dare to dream (and care for one another).
With deep love,
Art
Copyright © – 2021 – R. Arthur Russell
P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. May it help you in your spiritual journey. 
“Thank You” & “Note to Publishers”
